


The Next Time I See You

by ficdirectory



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Gen, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: Amelia visits Stephanie in the hospital.  Post 13x24.





	The Next Time I See You

For a while, Dr. Webber is her only steady visitor.  

It’s impossible not to see Jackson on a daily basis.  He works here.  It sucks to see him when she’s so vulnerable.  She doesn’t count him as a regular visitor because being obligated to come and debride her burns is not the same as taking time out of your day to sit.

To talk.

To touch places that don’t hurt.

(Same goes for DeLuca.)

Ben comes, too, once, with Chief Bailey.  She’s glad to see Ben, but seeing the Chief with him is kinda like having her school principal visit when she was seven in terrible pain.  (The only thing worse than being in terrible pain is being seen in terrible pain by somebody in authority.)

Stephanie marks time by bandage-changes.  

She has two modes: agony and morphine.

It’s hell here.  But it’s worth it.  After a blur of days or weeks or months, Dr. Webber tells her that Erin has been released from the hospital.  He shows her a card wrapped in plastic:

_Get Well Soon_!  It reads.

And inside?

_Thank you for saving my life.  Love Erin._

There are more days or weeks or months.  It’s the promise of living her own life that has her pushing forward when things seem unbearable.

It’s been several eternities when a new set of eyes comes to the doorway of Stephanie’s room in the burn ICU.  She’d know them anywhere.

“Dr. Shepherd…” she gasps.  Pain and surprise each vie for her attention.

“Edwards,” she nods.  She’s short.  Clipped.  Efficient.  “How are you?”

Stephanie looks past her, tears rolling down her face and into her ears.  No matter how many times people ask, the question doesn’t get any easier to answer.

How is she?  How should she be, knowing that she herself dove through a wall of fire and deep fried a rapist to protect a patient, and almost no one noticed she was missing?  Almost no one’s shown their face?  How valued is she supposed to feel right now?  

Instead, Stephanie swallows her tears, and returns the question.  “How are you?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here.  I had some personal–”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Stephanie insists.  (They’re coworkers.  It’s fine.)

“I lived in your house, Edwards.  You’ve been my right hand in impossible surgeries.  I owe you.  The least I could do…”

Stephanie can’t hold her gaze.  Looks away.

“If I’d been here, Edwards…”

“If you’d been here, what?” she gasps.  

“I just…wish I’d been here…for you…” Shepherd amends.

“It’s fine,” she winces.  “Dr. Webber’s keeping me updated…”

“You know Minnick’s been–”

“Fired.  Yeah, I know.”  The irony of the term isn’t lost on Stephanie.  “Doesn’t help me now, does it?  She  _should be_  fired.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Shepherd nods.  Carefully, she reaches out.  Strokes Stephanie’s hair, still covered by the cap.

The familiarity of this act is almost too much.  It was acceptable when Dr. Webber did it.  Stephanie feels a kinship with him.  A mutual respect.  He’s always had her back.  Whereas Shepherd…

“You can say it…” she offers, wanting nothing more than to drive Dr. Shepherd from the room, with its sterile blankness.  With its recycled air.  “I was reckless.  I should’ve never come back when I did.  I should’ve done my time with the counselor.  In my own way, I had it coming…”

Stephanie hears the gossip.  When she’s not screaming, or listening to other people scream, or dragged under in a haze of morphine.  She knows what everyone’s saying.  Knows that had it been Grey or Robbins, they’d probably be called a hero.  Knows that her own actions will always be weeded out as an exception and therefore not worthy of recognition for what they are.

When she can meet Shepherd’s eyes, it’s there.  Not disappointment.  Not pity.  Pride.  Anger.  Defiance.  “Edwards.  You’re one hell of a doctor.”

“You know I quit, right?” Stephanie checks.  She’s almost beyond her limit here, stamina-wise.  Pain-tolerance wise.  She’s not super-human.  But she always prefers to talk to her visitors when she’s clear.

“I know.”  Somehow, Shepherd’s still here, stroking her head.

“Probably not gonna have a home to go home to once I get out of here,” Stephanie worries.

“You do.”

“What?”

“You have a home.”

“Where?”

“Where?  With me, Edwards.  God.  Fair’s fair.”

Stephanie clicks the button for more morphine.  She’s done with agony for now.

“I’ll miss you,” she hears Shepherd say as she drifts.

Stephanie opens one eye, still in the small window of time before the morphine knocks her out completely.  “Not dying…just sleeping…”

And Stephanie’s pretty sure she can hear Shepherd’s reply:

A quiet and resolute: “Still.”

 


End file.
